


Hand in a Jar

by Southern_Heaven



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: help_haiti, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Heaven/pseuds/Southern_Heaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or Inappropriate things that Captain Jack Harkness has done with the Doctor's hand.<br/><i>He took it with him whenever they made more than a day trip and became horribly distraught if anyone happened to move the jar. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand in a Jar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/gifts).



> This fic was written for Ishie for her contribution for the Lightning Round on help_haiti. Thank you also to Damalur for giving this a quick beta.

Tosh had taken note of Jack's reverence for the hand. Sometimes she would catch him in his office, just stroking one finger along the glass while the hand bobbed around amongst bubbles within the container. He took it with him whenever they made more than a day trip and became horribly distraught if anyone happened to move the jar.

The rest of Torchwood just thought it was creepy. When they were on long stake-outs and all other topics of conversation had fallen through, without fail someone would ask, "So whose hand do you think it is?"

There were as many theories as hours spent surveilling dead ends about the hand's origin. Ianto suggested over and over that it belonged to some alien Jack was hung up on, but the hand looked too human for anyone else to believe him.

Whoever's hand that was, wherever it had come from, it freaked the staff out more than any alien they had the misfortune of encountering.

**01.**

Jack used the hand to flip off a weevil.   
He tucked the hand into position, put it back in the jar, then set it in front of the weevil cages on an end table no one had seen before.

 

**02.**

Owen noticed a hand sitting beside his surgical tray when he went to count his clamps. It seemed that he had just misplaced a piece of the body he had been examining. The cadaver came in what could only be termed 'chunks,' so he wasn't surprised to have misplaced a piece.

He had been able to lay most of the bits out in the right order to form a body, so he took the hand to where it would fit in. Owen was surprised to already find a hand there. Upon closer inspection, the hand from the tray was the wrong size for the body and the skin was too pale.

He looked for a third arm, but came up with nothing. Frustrated, he threw it in the body bag with the rest of the odds and ends.   
Only when it was back in the jar again did he recognize the hand.

 

**03.**

Tosh knocked on Jack's open door before proceeding in to Jack's office. It was best to give him fair warning to put his clothes back on or to put away his DS before entering and seeing something that would take years of therapy to scour from their brains.   
Jack held out a bowl full of candy. "Butterscotch?"

Tosh nodded, only paying half attention, and reached down to pick out one of the candies. Her finger tips brushed something fleshy.

She recoiled dropping the files and the butter scotch.

It was that hand. Jack had cupped it and filled it with candy.

"That's not funny!"

 

**04.**

"There are reports of something alien landing west of the city—Jack, what are you doing?"

Owen could not quite see what was going on for Jack's desk. It certainly looked as if Jack was jacking off, and Owen prayed to whatever powers were that Jack hadn't snapped for good.

"I've got an itch," Jack replied, his face screwed up as he concentrated on whatever he was at. "I just can't… quite… reach."

Then Jack's face relaxed and he sighed with relief. A moment later, Jack pulled the hand out of his pants.

 

**05.**

Things had been quiet in Cardiff for the past few weeks, so Tosh had taken to looking through cold case files. Technology had come quite a ways since many of the cases still trapped in their cold case cabinet had occurred. Through the miracle of science, she hoped to clean out the drawers.

Jack came staggering out of his office, pausing to lean on the railing behind her. Tosh turned to look at him, unsure what to make of his unsteady gait.

"Tosh, help!" He slumped to the ground, clutching something to his chest .

"What?" Tosh knelt over him. "What is it Jack?"

"My hand, oh god, my hand!"

"Jack, let me see!"

Jack writhed about on the floor in agony and Tosh had to hold him down in order to see what it was. A hand fell to the side when she finally pinned him back.

"Jack, your hand!"

Then it struck her that there was no blood.

 

**06.**

Ianto was at wit's end.

Jack insisted that the hand got its own seat when they went to the cinema.

That he insisted on bringing the hand at all disturbed Ianto, but emotional and physical needs overpowered the part of Ianto's brain that protested. The cinema they usually went to politely asked them never to come back after the third time Jack brought the hand along.

The hand was a third wheel on their "dates" (though he only allowed himself to call them that in his head).

Each time they found a new cinema, it happened again.

They went to more and more sparsely patronized theatres until they could only show their faces in experimental theaters where bringing along extra body parts was considered edgy. The movies were shit there, but Ianto suffered in silence.

Except for the times Jack sat the hand between them.

 

**07.**

"It feels like you've got three hands," Ianto mumbled, his voice seemed to have fled his body when he came for the second time that night.

"But I do." Jack held up the extra hand to show him, wiggling it back and forth, and grinning.

Ianto groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

 

**08.**

Gwen stretched back to combat the growing stiffness in her back, then down over the filing cabinet again. Whoever had designed these cabinets had never heard the word 'ergonomic'. The drawer she was looking through was at such a height that she could not kneel to look into it and instead had to bend at the waist.

She felt something press against her ass. When Captain Jack Harkness was your boss, groping on the clock was par for the course.   
Gwen took a deep breath and thought about what she would do in various cases. If it was Tosh, they would pretend it was an accident. If it was Jack, they'd laugh it off. If it was Ianto, then the poor man had finally snapped. If it was Owen, she'd break his arm off.

"It's not funny," Gwen said as she turned around to see Jack. He was standing back from her, but was reaching out to press that hand he kept in a jar to her ass. Jack hadn't bothered to dry it off and it was leaving at wet patch where he had to pressed against her. Gwen could only gape at him.

Jack pulled the hand back and grinned. "It can get a little handsy."


End file.
